


The Horror was for Love

by acoolgirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Madge's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 09:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15361782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolgirl/pseuds/acoolgirl
Summary: Forever in my heart, mind, and grave.





	The Horror was for Love

Whether an act of divine mercy or just a cruel coincidence, her back-or neck, had snapped when the ceiling had fallen down on her, and she couldn’t feel anything from her chin down. The smell of burning flesh, however, was potent enough for her to know it was coming from her.

She had been downstairs in the kitchen when the world had ended.

Unable to sleep earlier, she had come down for a glass of water, and had walked to the side door when she heard the strangest...zipping noise from outside.

And then the bomb fell on her house.

She knew without a doubt both her parents were dead, as were the two domestic workers that lived with them. Had she just stayed in her bed like she was supposed to, her end would have been just as quick. Instead, she lies face down, her head just sticking out of the carnage as she slowly bleeds to death.

She betrays her vision of being just as strong and brave as Katniss when she cries out meekly for Gale to come and save her.

“Please,” Madge sobs as dirt and ash enters her mouth and lungs, even as she knows he will not come. “Gale, please...”

Burning debris falls less than a foot from where she lies, and Madge tries in vain to drag herself out. Not a muscle corresponds to the command.

“Help!” Madge finally screams desperately, because she knows that if someone would just pull her out, she could live-she could _live._

Reflective of her life, no one listens.

His gray eyes oversaw evacuations, she was sure of it, and she could not begrudge him for his total apathy for her even when he left her for dead. She’d rather 100 Seam children live than her anyways. She had realized very early on that souls like hers were only created to act as fillers in the lives of those that actually mattered.

More debris falls around her, and all Madge can do is watch the flames inch closer towards her. It seems that in the end she’ll finally be granted her wish of being more like Katniss: she’ll be a girl on fire.

As her life trickles out of her like liquor from a shattered bottle, Madge shuts her eyes and allows her young heart to ache for what it ardently yearns for, for the last time.

She thinks of her Father, and how she loved him, and he loved her, but there was never enough time.

She thinks of her Mother, and how the two only had time, but always an uncrossable void between them.

She thinks of Katniss, and wonders if she’s dead too.

Finally, she gives in to thoughts of Gale, though there’s never been resistance. Whether she lay on lavender-scented linens or on her grave, she longed for the boy who was the center of her every flowery dream. While she remained not even an afterthought in his waking conscious. He, who was the one she only ever loved. He, who only ever held her in contempt.

She decides then that her last few seconds should not be bitter. If she has to die on Snow’s terms, let her heart revolt against even that.

So, she imagines what their lives would have been like, here in 12, if there was no such thing as the Capital or Hunger Games or children starving.

The phantom of his lips have just pressed against hers when the flames finally overcome her, and then there is only pain pain pain, and oh God, how cruel-how cruel, the world was.

 

* * *

 

When Thom tells Gale that Mayor Undersee’s house had been the first to have been bombed, he loses his breath, as if he’s been punched in the gut. Guilt, rage, and sorrow choke his throat closed.

Just as when she lived, it seemed that Madge Undersee somehow still had the power over him to elicit the most visceral reactions within him, even by thought alone.

 _“Forget it,”_ Gale tells himself roughly as he surveys the District he must now provide for. _“She probably didn’t even know your last name.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Wuthering Heights.


End file.
